Mirrors and Mortality - Trigun Drabbles
by A.V.A.OCTOBER
Summary: One thing's for sure though. He sees right through you – he has since the very beginning – and vise-versa. To each other you're plates of glass – no mirrors. So transparent, yet so hidden from the rest of the world. Walking mysteries. Vash's tongue danced behind his teeth – words he'd never speak. He found himself wondering if Wolfwood had ever loved.
1. Chapter 1

I.

One hand's on his mask and the other's on the trigger. You're aware that when, or if, he rips it from his scarred face you'll see eyes – dark and haunted and fearful. The same bullshit you see in the mirror every morning. The thought that there is a person – a mirror image of you – is absolutely frightening. But your interesting in seeing that you're not the only one.

People as self-aware as Wolfwood aren't good at pretending. This you know. `Been dancing with the same problem for awhile now anyway.

Perhaps he'll be the one to put an end to this madness.


	2. Chapter 2

II.

Is it possible that you've begun to trust someone? He's so similar to you in matters of hardships and pain. So different in the way he deals.

One thing's for sure though. He sees right through you – he has since the very beginning – and vise-versa. To each other you're plates of glass – mirrors. So transparent to each other, but so hidden from the rest of the world. Walking mysteries.

No, you didn't trust him. How could you if you didn't trust yourself first?

Thoughts of lost July crept into Vash's haunted mind. Again, he found himself humming the melody to the same sad song.

He wouldn't let himself endure those feelings again.


	3. Chapter 3

III.

Without warning, Vash and Wolfwood's lips met in a mess of fiery passion. Vash – obviously more flustered than before, backed away instantly, and met the dark eyed gaze. He tried to debunk this sudden mystery – who kissed who, and why – but his thoughts were fuzzed by the high the kiss had produced.

Wolfwood looked lost, more like a vulnerable child than a man with a dangerous background. It took a moment for Vash to realize that he had finally torn back his mask to reveal a whole new face underneath - this was the real Wolfwood.

A man.

With a past.

He did not like.

Vash suddenly had the urge to hold him and never let go. How did this all begin anyway? Why couldn't he quite recall the short moments just before this? Without warning, his arms came around the man's broad shoulders. Wolfwood grunted quietly in suprise.

"Vash," His raspy voice mumbled from Vash's shoulder. "What are you doing?"

"Drop the act."

Wolfwood's protests died away, and he fell into a very characteristic silence. Suddenly, something very warm seeped through Vash's crimson jacket and moistened his scared shoulder.

Vash's tongue danced behind his teeth – words he'd never speak.

He found himself wondering if Wolfwood had ever loved.


	4. Chapter 4

IV.

Vash found it humorous how Wolfwood never dropped his bad boy act in front of the girls, but when alone, he could link his fingers through Vash's and become a whole new person.

This happened to be another part of Wolfwood that Vash fancied, along with the scruff on his chin, the wildness to his hair, the rasp in his voice. But there was something about this trait that put the blond on edge. He assumed it was because he also contained two personalities as well, very similar to Wolfwood's.

Wolfwood collapsed onto the stiff, cot, dragging Vash out of his train of thoughts. "You're awfully quiet." He jested in a mocking tone. The smell of cigarette smoke wafted through the air.

Vash smiled up at him. "I guess so…"

Shaking his head, Wolfwood took another drag. "You know I don't give a damn."

The blond sat up, still grinning. "Sometimes I feel like you don't really care about anything." He murmured resting his forehead on the other's shoulder.

"Not true." Wolfwood defended vehemently.

"Oh, really?"

His hand came to rest on the blond's shoulder. "I care about you."

Vash fell silent once again.


	5. Chapter 5

It had become a long night. Vash found himself wandering down the hall in a bone chilling silence. Feelings were clutching his weak heart – ones that he could not bear to fend off any longer. He needed a release, some sort of release.

Really, he was moving blindly, with numb emotions, and a never ending aching somewhere deep within. When he finally found a fragile desire to zone back in with reality, he was standing before the entrance to a room – someone's room. A raggedy curtain hung down, rippling softly in the gentle, dusty breeze that leaked through the uncovered windows on the other side.

Vash reached out absently and brushed his long, calloused fingers against the worn fabric. It danced beneath them – so smooth, so graceful. He could turn back then. Return to his own room and let the pain continue to clutch him, somewhere deep within – remind him of what he'd done, and what they'd done together, although he'd try so hard to forget. But, he licked his dry, dusty lips, that wouldn't solve anything, now would it?

But what really, was he trying to solve?

Another wave of restlessness came over him, matched only by a building reluctance in his heart. Vash swallowed hard to choke down the weird feeling accumulating in the back of his eyes, and again, allowed the numbness to take him. It was then that he forced the curtain back.

The room was dingy, illuminated only by the subtle light the moons cast through the small, open window. The bed was messy, sheets wrinkled and damp from where Milly lay earlier that evening and let her never ending tears pool out.

Upon the familiar sight, a wave of recently repressed memories crashed into Vash's soul like a merciless tidal wave. "Wolfwood…" He stumbled a few steps forward, breath caught in his dry throat, the name leaving a bittersweet taste on his dancing tongue. Vash's knees shook and finally buckled. He took one more, swift, desperate step forward before collapsing onto a bed that was never his. The mattress was firm, and creaked loudly under the sudden weight.

Vash took a moment to try and calm his ragged, shallow breaths, to no prevail. _Milly cried the entire day away, but when is it my turn – my tears, when can they surface?_

As a means for stifling his sobs, he buried his face into the pillow, still ripe with the many scents that made up Wolfwood – stale cigarettes and sweat and alcohol and tears and pain. And Vash. After all, they had laid together in this very spot just one night prior. The thought brought a new wave of tears to Vash's moist eyes.

He couldn't control it. He couldn't control himself. He never really had that ability anyway.


End file.
